


if you want something else

by softnow



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Light Angst, Sexual Tension, Smut, Sneaky Sex, rehearsal dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnow/pseuds/softnow
Summary: it's probably bad form to kiss your boss during your rehearsal dinner, but right now, rebecca bunch doesn't care.





	if you want something else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notbang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang/gifts).



> a massive thank-you to [sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang/pseuds/notbang) for requesting this, and to [cori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody) for encouraging it. 
> 
> set during the rehearsal dinner of 2x13.

It makes perfect sense, of course, that she would end up with red wine spilled down the front of her rehearsal dinner dress. The party is perfect, her father is here, and she is happy—so obviously something has to go wrong. 

To be honest, though, Rebecca isn’t that upset. It was an accident (Darryl, overly excited to find out what the confetti/rice/dove situation would be on the big day, had spun around too quickly with his mostly-full glass of pinot and splashed it all over her chest). And besides, she has a backup dress: a sleek, black number laid out on her bed by Valencia _just in case_. The amount of contingencies Valencia has accounted for astounds and impresses Rebecca, and she’s not sure what she’s done to deserve such an enormous gift from the girl who used to hate her.

Rebecca is grateful for it always, but especially now, with her blue dress stained purple in big splotches. She closes her bedroom door behind her and strips, balling up the soiled dress and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. She can hear her friends laughing through the wall, and she smiles to herself as she steps into the new dress. 

So much hard work, so many months of turmoil and heartache, and here she is. About to be a bride. About to have everything she’s ever said she wanted. (So why does she still feel like something is missing? What more could she ask for? What more could she possibly want?)

She tugs the dress up over her hips, doing the classic swivel-hop known by women throughout time, and slips her arms through the straps. She reaches behind her for the zipper and frowns. 

It’s _just_ like Valencia to give her a dress with a row of buttons down the spine instead of a zipper. Valencia, who can turn her hand into a shoe, would have no problems with this dress. Rebecca, who can only turn her hand into a hand making a different gesture, is not so lucky.

She manages to get the first four buttons on the bottom fastened, but the rest are out of her reach. Sighing, she snatches her phone off the dresser, about to text Paula a code purple (fashion problems) when she hears the door open. Forget twin telepathy, she thinks. BFF telepathy is where it’s at.

“Hey, I was just about to text y—” The words die on her lips when she looks up to find Nathaniel standing there, one hand on the doorknob, an eyebrow quirked.

“Oh. This isn’t the bathroom,” he says. He doesn’t look particularly surprised. 

“No, that’s…” She gestures vaguely to the left, and Nathaniel nods.

“Ah,” he says, stepping into the room and letting the door fall shut behind him. He slips his hands into his pockets casually and glances around. “You’re missing all of the fun. Your dad just told everyone how he came to be here. I believe the words ‘remarkably selfless’ and ‘the best man I’ve ever met’ were used. It was truly moving.”

“You’re really going to milk this for all it’s worth, aren’t you?” 

“Well, it’s not every day you single-handedly save someone’s wedding,” he says with a shrug.

“Single-handedly.” Rebecca barks a laugh. “Wow. Okay. So why aren’t you out there feeding your ego, mister savior complex?”

“Your fiancé started beat-boxing,” he says by way of explanation, then fixes her with a quizzical stare. “And what are you doing hiding in here? Wait, are you getting cold feet? Because after watching two minutes of…that,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, “I would completely understand.”

“What? No!” Rebecca scoffs, her voice rising a few octaves. She waves a dismissive hand. “No, my feet are nice and toasty, thank you. I just had a bit of a wardrobe disaster, and now I can’t get this stupid dress buttoned, so if you could send Paula in here when you go back out, that would be great.”

“No need. Turn around.”

Rebecca blinks. “Uh, what?”

“I’ll do it up for you. Turn around.”

She does, slightly baffled and all too aware that she’s exposing most of her bare back to him. She watches him in the mirror over the dresser as he steps up behind her. He straightens the edges of her dress, lining up the buttons with the holes, and his fingers brush against her skin. Rebecca fights back the shiver that threatens to break free and clasps her hands in front of her as he fastens the first button.

“Are you having fun?” she blurts, feeling suddenly vulnerable, too exposed even as he’s slowly concealing her. “At the party, I mean?”

Nathaniel hums, does another button.

“I wouldn’t say fun,” he says. “Are you?”

“Yep! Mm-hmm. Yeah. It’s great. It’s, you know, everything I’ve ever wanted and I couldn’t be happier,” she chirps. “And my dad’s here, so I mean, it’s pretty much a dream come true. Hashtag best night ever. That’s, uh, that’s what we put on the Instagram post.”

She watches his mouth twist into a wry smile over her shoulder, but he doesn’t say anything. His hands continue to work methodically up her back. The air around them is thick. The silence is palpable. When someone turns on a stereo in the living room, it sounds miles away. 

Rebecca realizes with dismay that this is the first time they’ve been alone together since the elevator. The memory of that night is etched all too clearly in her mind. (As it should be, because isn’t it the reason they’re all here, doing this, so soon?) She’d like to say she never thinks about it, but sometimes when it’s late and she’s tired and frustrated, she can’t help it. Just like she can’t help that sometimes, on those late nights, she imagines what would have happened if the power hadn’t have come back on.

“This dress is nice,” Nathaniel says at last. His voice is low and close.

“Ish?” she supplies with a forced chuckle.

“No.” His hands stall on her back and she meets his stare in the mirror. His face is serious, his eyes intense. “You look lovely, Rebecca.”

A tiny pinprick of warmth, like a new star being born, bursts in the center of her chest.

“Oh. I— Thank you,” she says, brow furrowed, as he resumes buttoning. “That’s… Thank you.”

Nathaniel fastens the last button and gently fluffs her hair over the collar. His hands fall to her waist and rest there—not squeezing, barely touching, but there. They regard each other in the mirror.

“So you’re really going through with it, then?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“The wedding. You’re actually going through with it?”

Rebecca sighs. “Nathaniel…” She turns to face him and grips his forearms lightly. His hands remain where they are. “Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you _so much_ that Josh and I are getting married?”

He straightens, clears his throat. He looks suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes far away. Rebecca waits until he returns her gaze. 

“I just don’t get it,” he says finally. “I look at you, and then I look at him… It’s confusing. That’s all.”

“Why? What’s so confusing about it?”

Nathaniel sighs and shakes his head. His grip on her waist tightens, solidifying into something real.

“I’ve known guys like Josh before. And they’re not…” He pauses. “They’re fine. But someone like you deserves more than fine. And I just—it bothers me to see someone like you settling.”

“Settling…” she echoes.

He nods, dipping his head into her orbit. “You’re better than that.”

“You think I’m settling?”

“You are,” he murmurs in confirmation. It’s such a Nathaniel thing to say, so pompous and presumptuous, but he doesn’t say it with any of his usual cockiness. His voice is gentle, honest. Disarming.

She looks at him, at the uncharacteristic openness on his face. His eyes are hooded, his lips slightly parted. She feels an ache deep between her shoulder blades. Not an unpleasant one. A warm, full one. His gaze flicks from her eyes to her mouth and back again, and the naked want she sees there undoes her.

It’s so easy. All she has to do is rock forward onto her toes and she’s there, fitting her lips against his, feeling the strength in his arms as they tighten around her. She grips the front of his shirt with one hand and the back of his neck with the other and clings to him. He tastes faintly like wine, and when he opens his mouth to her, she thinks that she could get drunker than she’s ever been on this alone.

He kisses her deeply and thoroughly, and it is better than she’s ever imagined it could be. Better than the hurried kiss in the elevator, better than the times she’s dreamt of him. He kisses her like it is his only task in the world, like there is nothing outside of this room, outside of her mouth, outside of _her_. 

After a while, he breaks away, and Rebecca tries to tug him back until his mouth lands on her neck. Then she just grips him even harder and angles her head back to give him easier access. Nathaniel trails kisses from her collarbone to her jaw, pausing to suck at her pulse point, before nipping at her earlobe. He tugs gently at the stud of her earring with his teeth, and she shouldn’t find it as erotic as she does but _god_. 

She moans low in her throat and feels his hands fist in the material of her dress in response. She can’t remember the last time she’s been this affected by kissing. The ache between her shoulder blades has traveled southward and turned into an intense, insistent throb. Her senses are full of him—his firm, warm body; his clean, masculine smell; his rich, unrelenting mouth—but it isn’t enough.

Tugging his lips back to hers with a hand in his hair, she kisses him soundly and pushes against his chest. He stumble-walks backwards until his legs bump the bed. His knees buckle and he sits down hard, letting out a soft _oof_ as Rebecca lands in his lap. She straddles him, the snug skirt of her dress climbing to expose several inches of thigh.

Nathaniel accepts the new position eagerly, meeting her for a series of open-mouthed, slightly sloppy kisses. One of his hands glides over her neck and into her hair while the other lands on the outside of her leg. He nudges his fingers beneath the hem of her skirt and squeezes but doesn’t push it any farther. 

Rebecca grabs the lapels of his jacket and is about to strip it off of him when there’s a dull crash and a sound like glass breaking followed by a roar of laughter from the living room. She stiffens and pulls back. (And almost—nearly—dives back in when she sees his face, slack and needy, in the milliseconds before his eyes open.)

“The party,” she pants, suddenly very aware of just how out of breath she is. “We should— They’ll wonder.”

Nathaniel inhales and leans up to rub his nose against the edge of her jaw.

“They’re drunk and occupied,” he says, his voice low and tempting. “They won’t notice.”

“But it’s my— Uhh…” She loses the thread as he kisses her throat, her chin, the corner of her mouth. “My, um. It’s my…rehearsal dinner.” Saying it out loud makes it real, and she finds the strength within her to push him back, gently but firmly. “It’s my rehearsal dinner. And this… This is wrong. We shouldn’t…”

Nathaniel sighs and tips his head back to peer down the length of his nose at her. 

“Do you want to go back out there?” he asks, and when she doesn’t answer right away, he continues, “Because if you want to stop, I’ll stop. We’ll go back out and I’ll make polite conversation with your father for ten minutes and then excuse myself for the night.”

His gaze is steady and fierce, and Rebecca can’t return it. She drops her eyes to his chest, where her hands are still clutching his jacket. She knows she shouldn’t be here, that this has gone too far already. Her _family_ is on the other side of that wall. Her friends. Paula. _Josh_. They’re here for _her_ , to celebrate with _her_. 

(So why has she felt, all night, like she’s been fighting for attention?)

“But,” Nathaniel says after a pregnant pause. She feels his fingers brush her cheek as he tucks a curl behind her ear. “If you want something else… Don’t settle, Rebecca.”

When she lifts her chin, she finds him watching her intently, waiting for her decision. 

“I want—” _To go_ is the right answer. It’s the answer she knows she should give, the answer she should settle for even if it’s a bald-faced lie. “ _This_ ,” she says instead, her chest aching with the truth of it, and surges forward.

He meets her in the middle and their mouths crash together, hot and hungry and desperate. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her thigh and she rocks against him. With a rough shove, she forces his jacket from his shoulders and his hands leave her long enough to pull it the rest of the way off. 

She fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, and he fumbles with the buttons on her dress—the ones he’s just fastened—and if they could tear their mouths away from each other for just a second, they could get out of these clothes so much faster. But Rebecca thinks she might actually explode if she has to stop kissing him, and from the way he pushes into her until his nose flattens against her cheek, she suspects he feels the same. 

Finally, she gets his shirt open and runs her hands over his chest, marveling at the softness of his skin contrasted with the firmness of the muscles beneath. Nathaniel shudders at her touch and moans into her mouth, an unhinged and deeply satisfying noise. 

When he manages to get her dress undone, a herculean effort given the way he’s gasping and grinding against her, he tosses her onto her back and peels her out of it, taking her underwear with him as he goes. He meets each new inch of exposed skin with his mouth until she’s writhing and letting out heady little moans. 

He hooks his hands under her knees and tugs her legs apart. Rebecca groans in frustration when he settles himself between them and kisses the inside of her thigh, his stubble rough and wonderful, because _god_ she wants that. Like, more than almost anything, she wants that. But they’re playing with fire, being in here so long. Drunk or not, distracted or not, she knows it’s only a matter of time before the people in her living room get suspicious, if they aren’t already.

“No time,” she bites out and tries to tug him up to her, but he resists.

“ _Now_ you’re concerned about a schedule?” he asks, smug as ever, and then his mouth is on her.

Her back leaves the mattress and then bears down, forcing her hips up to meet him as he kisses her slick, overheated skin with the same thorough intensity with which he’d kissed her mouth. He drapes a forearm over her lower belly to pin her down and sucks at her clit. Rebecca’s head jerks back and an unintelligible noise of pure pleasure escapes her throat.

“Nath— Fuck, _fuck!_ ” she pants as he adds two fingers to the mix. “Oh, God, oh my God, please—” 

She can feel her orgasm already building at the base of her spine, and as incredible as this is, she wants to feel him when she comes. She threads her fingers through the crest of his hair and pulls. He gives her one last long lick that makes her thighs tremble and her stomach clench before climbing her body to kiss her firmly on the mouth.

“ _Please_ ,” she groans against his lips, and she’s deeply relieved when rolls away long enough to shed his pants and boxers. 

“Condom,” he gasps when she wraps her hand around him. “We need— _Shit_. We need—”

“Drawer,” she says, and he reaches over her, fumbles through her drawer and finally comes up with a foil packet. 

He rolls on the condom and then he’s there, settling over her, solid and heavy in the best way. He lines himself up between her legs, and she encourages him forward with eager hands on his back. They kiss through the moans as he finally, _finally_ pushes inside. 

The stretch is hot and sweet, and Rebecca wishes they had more time to stay like this, to just feel each other, because it is _so good_. But then Nathaniel grips her thigh and pulls her leg up over his hip with one hand while the other weaves into her hair and cradles the back of her head, and she stops wishing for anything that isn’t him moving against her. 

The rhythm he sets is fast and hard, and she meets him thrust for thrust. Every inch of her body feels inflamed, like her blood has been replaced with gasoline and he’s a match. She rakes her nails down his back and bites his shoulder until he makes an inarticulate, frenzied noise.

Nathaniel’s breathing grows labored, and he drops his face into the crook of her shoulder. She thinks he’s getting close, and her suspicions are confirmed when he snakes a hand between their bodies to rub her clit with his thumb. 

“ _Rebecca._ ” His voice is thick and strained. “God, you feel—” She clenches around him and he gasps, hips stuttering against hers before resuming their relentless rhythm. “ _Incredible_. You feel— _ah_ —incredible.”

She grunts in agreement and pulls her knees up higher, deepening the angle. He sinks farther into her, and she feels full, so full, and it’s all too much—his cock, his fingers, his sweat-slicked skin, his chest dragging over her nipples, his mouth nipping at her neck. Her head falls back, and all it takes is one more thrust.

She comes hard, jerking and whimpering against him, and he draws it out for her as long as he can before falling apart, too. She feels him pulsing as he collapses onto her, shuddering and groaning.

They lay like that for a long moment, quaking with aftershocks, clinging to each other like storm survivors. Rebecca can feel his heart beating against her chest, and she lets her eyes fall shut, savoring the unexpected sense of security that washes over her. 

When his breathing is almost back to normal, Nathaniel lifts his head and kisses her. All of the urgency is gone now, but it’s no less thorough. Instead of inflamed, Rebecca feels warm and fuzzy, a little dreamy. 

That is, of course, the moment someone knocks on the bedroom door. 

“Rebecca, honey?” Paula calls. “Everything okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

Nathaniel scrambles off of her, and Rebecca flies from the bed, searching the floor for her underwear, panic mounting in her chest.

“What! Paula! Fine! I’m fine! Don’t come in!” she shrieks. “I’m—praying!”

It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and she doesn’t miss the bemused look Nathaniel shoots her.

“Uh…what?” Paula says.

“Praying! I mean—laying! I’m laying down!” She finds her underwear and shimmies into them, scooping up her bra as she goes. “I got—uh—dizzy! Low blood sugar! And—and too much champagne!”

“Are you okay? Do you need me to—”

“No! I mean, yes! I’m fine! Just—I’ll be out in a minute, okay? Go back to the party!”

“O…kay.” Rebecca hears a note of hesitation in Paula’s voice followed, mercifully, by the sound of her shoes retreating.

“Oh my god,” Rebecca groans and slaps her hands over her face. “Oh my _god_. Oh my god! Oh my—”

“Hey.” Nathaniel catches her by the shoulders. He’s only half-dressed, his pants on but undone. “It’s alright. Calm down.”

“I can’t believe we just did that,” she says, more to herself than him. “I can’t believe I just screwed my boss during my _rehearsal dinner_. I’m awful. I’m actually awful. Oh my god.”

“Stop that.” He gives her a little shake, bends his neck to look her in the eye. “You haven’t made any vows yet. Nobody needs to know about this.”

“I know!” she cries. “ _I_ know!”

“Would you undo it?” He cups her face in his hands, rubs his thumbs over her cheeks. 

She pouts and thinks about the fire he stoked within her, the exhilaration in his kiss. Would she rather never have felt his tongue between her thighs, never have tasted the sweat on his skin? Would she rather never have heard her name tumble from his lips like a prayer? Would she erase all of that if she could?

“No.”

He smiles, and she thinks there’s something relieved in his eyes. Then he presses a soft kiss to her mouth and steps away. He snags his shirt and her dress from the foot of the bed, extending one to her while he slides an arm into the other. 

They dress in hurried silence. Rebecca hates herself for not feeling guiltier. Guilty, yes, but a manageable amount. Not the all-encompassing, soul-crushing amount she thinks she _should_ feel. Mostly, she feels sore and satisfied. 

When Nathaniel’s fully dressed, he comes up behind her and begins fastening her dress without a word. He does the last button and kisses her bare shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks as she steps into her heels.

“I think so,” she says and is relieved to find it’s true.

“You know…” He leans against the wall, watching her smooth her hair in the mirror. “I meant what I said earlier.”

She arches a questioning eyebrow at him.

“About you…deserving more.”

“Nathaniel…”

“It’s okay,” he says and shrugs. “I just want you to know that.”

“Thank you.” She goes to him and touches his cheek gently. “For everything.”

He clears his throat. His mouth quirks upwards into an unsteady smirk, and he looks like he’s about to say something glib. Rebecca silences him before he can, tiptoeing to touch her lips to his. He catches her by the waist and holds her against him. It’s a chaste kiss—barely a kiss at all, really. When he lets her go, she steps back and gives him what she hopes is a convincing smile.

“Alright. Guess it’s time to…”

Nathaniel nods. “Give me two minutes and then come out.”

“And if anyone asks?”

He taps the pocket where he keeps his phone. “I’ll say I got caught up on a business call. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Rebecca.” His eyes sweep over her body before settling on her face. She catches a glimpse of something (pained?) but then it’s gone, and so is he, the bedroom door shut softly behind him.

Rebecca lets out a long, slow breath and counts down from two hundred, just to be safe. She rejoins the party just in time to see Nathaniel shaking Josh’s hand. She can’t hear him from here, but she watches his mouth form the words _You’re a lucky man_. Josh offers a slightly confused thanks, and then Nathaniel moves on, clapping her father briefly on the shoulder before slipping out into the night.

“Hey.” Paula sidles up next to her and touches her arm. “Are you okay? You’re all flushed.”

“Huh?” Rebecca shakes her head and tears her gaze away from the door. “No, I’m fine. Sorry for disappearing. I guess I just drank more than I realized.”

Paula chuckles knowingly and gives her a little hug. “Oh, honey. I’ll tell everyone to leave if you’re ready to settle in for the night.”

Rebecca blinks. “Settle?”

“Yeah, you and Josh. I mean, it’s so romantic, right? Just a few more days to the wedding!” Paula sighs the sigh she reserves for Hugh Grant movies and Rebecca’s love life. She drops her voice a few octaves to add, “Honestly, I don’t know how you haven’t snuck away to jump him tonight. When Scott and I had our rehearsal dinner…ugh, we did it in, like, three different supply closets at the Holiday Inn.”

Rebecca’s throat feels tight and she laughs a little too loudly. “Yeah. _Yeah_. Totally. I—I don’t know either. Um, actually, I’d like everyone to stay a little bit longer. I don’t think I’m ready to, uh, settle in just yet.”

“Okay, cookie, whatever you want,” Paula says, but all Rebecca can hear is Nathaniel’s voice, soft and self-assured, saying, _If you want something else…_

It’s late when everyone finally leaves, and Rebecca is exhausted in all of the ways a person can be exhausted, but she doesn’t sleep. She lays in bed with the covers pulled to her chin and listens to Josh snore beside her. She thinks about how he’d kissed her good night, dry and distracted. Not at all the way a man should kiss his soon-to-be bride. 

Not at all the way Nathaniel had kissed her.

She tries to resist thoughts of him, tries to tell herself it was an isolated incident and he’s out of her system now. For good. For real. But as the clock creeps towards two-thirty, she finds it harder to lie to herself. When she closes her eyes, she can still smell his cologne and taste the tang of red wine on his tongue. 

She’s still sore, and her inner thighs are raw from his stubble, but her body responds regardless. The longer she thinks of his hands and his hips and of the way he’d given her exactly what she’d wanted without having to be told, the stronger the ache in her lower belly becomes. 

It’s two forty-one when it becomes unbearable, the pressure between her legs and the heat of her skin. She looks at Josh, considers waking him in the cursory sort of way she knows she’s supposed to, before slipping out of bed with her phone. She locks herself in the bathroom and draws a bath.

It’s two forty-eight when she settles into the steaming water, and two forty-nine when she scrolls to the _Ps_ in her contacts.

He answers on the first ring.

**Author's Note:**

> i know i said i was going to leave this alone, but i've written a short morning-after sequel fic as part of my _[all the things you said](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615121/chapters/33777591)_ dialogue fic collection, and you can find it [heeeere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615121/chapters/33800550).


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